Seth was mad. For the first time since their marriage he had quarrelled with his wife. Docile, sweet-tempered Ruth Curtis was aflame with mother wrath. She, like a great many Green Valley women, thought of Jim Tumley not as a man but as a voice, the voice of a lark on a summer morning. That other men's selfish strength should still that voice made her sweet eyes flame and her soft voice shake with anger. That Seth, who so hated waste of any kind, could stand calmly by while a lovable human soul was being thrown away puzzled her at first. She tried to argue with him. If Jim Tumley were trying to save his burning barn or mend his fence Seth would have helped him gladly. But Jim was trying to save his body and soul and Green Valley men, even though they knew he was not equal to the struggle, could not see that it was their business to help. Seth resented this passionate fight for little Jim that the women were making. In his anger Seth could not see that beyond the figure of the gentle singing man stood the children of Green Valley. In this harmless little man who could not save himself every mother saw her boy, her girl; one a drunkard-to-be perhaps, the other mayhap a drunkard's wife and the mother of more drunkards. Seth's eyes blazed around Billy's crowded office and he waited for the question that he knew he would be asked: "Well--Seth--you voting the town dry this morning?" And then Seth let loose. He said fool things to ease his ugly temper but he wound up his argument with the telling reminder that Green Valley couldn't afford to lose the fifteen-hundred-dollar yearly license tax. "Not only would we men lose our freedom and be a thirsty lot of wife-driven idiots but our taxes would rise." And that argument told. It had been overlooked somehow. But at the mention of it every man's face but Jake's brightened. Why, sure--Seth was right. That fifteen hundred dollars kept the taxes down and was an argument that ought to appeal to every Green Valley woman whose life was an eternal struggle to save. "Why, yes, that's so," agreed Jake. "It seems as if the women ought to see that, but like as not they'll talk back and say that if there was no hotel bar to attract us men there'd be less time wasted and more than fifteen hundred dollars' worth of extra work turned out. And for all they talk so everlastingly about saving, there's some kind of money that no nice woman will touch with a ten-foot pole. And just put it up to them as to which they want, Jim Tumley or fifteen hundred a year, and see what they say." Jake was the richest man of all the men packed in Billy Evans' office. He could afford to talk bravely for he had no need to curry any man's favor. And he could demand respectful attention for his opinions. There were those present who resented this independence. "These farmers nowadays are getting danged smart and officious," muttered Sears to Sam Bobbins.